The Chosen Ones
by dualbrush
Summary: Draco Malfoy must repent for his actions during the Second Wizarding War. On his quest to right the wrongs he committed, will his views change or will blood run thick?
1. Chapter 1: Summoned

Chapter 1: Summoned

American boxing. 1 - 2. 1 - 2. You move left to dodge right. And right, to dodge left. The sounds of my boots stopping in the ring as I countered my opponent by placing my body just beyond their reach, then pressuring them into a corner to avoid a potential attack. Until they feel the ropes against their back, wondering how they got there. All without throwing a punch. Baiting and luring, it was the way of this world. A lifetime of magic had made me ignorant to this type of muggle survival. This physical need to be superior in order to make your enemies submit. In a word it was addicting. Sizing someone up by their looks, their movements, how they reacted, and acted. I suppose this is how wands felt before a duel. The wizard being the brain, the wand the body. Would it win? Could it feel fear? I've read that wands were intelligent, to a point, they could feel magic as much as they could channel it. And I believed that anything able to do magic? Well, they were superior.

I finished my shadow boxing with a few more jabs at eye level, temporarily blinding my opponent, setting up my strong left hand for a blow to the temple. I grabbed a towel and started heading towards the shower. These past few months I had been building my body, carving away every inch of the weaknesses I'd developed, that clung onto me like tumors during my captivity. I used to believe that only the weak feared, but now I know better. If the strong forget about fear, they'll become the weak.

My wand hand clutched emptily at the air. It had been months since a wizard council had decided to ban me from a wand like some common house elf. I suppose if it weren't for Potter's testimony, they'd have done worse. Put me in Azkaban. Or death. It had been generations since anyone had been sentenced to death, didn't make sense really. Not after Ulbrich the Beheaded chose to become a ghost in order to haunt the seven judges who had given him such punishment. I suppose it was the lack of the wand that made me want to try my hand at boxing, in a way it also proved the Malfoy line of genetic superiority. Father always said that there was nothing we couldn't do. I stepped into the grand hall of the manor, it was completely empty. The ministry had set a magical parameter around my home, and herded the servants away with clothing long ago since this was ground zero for Voldemort's base of operations during the Second Wizarding War. Everything of magical value, generations of my family's collections, had been carted away by those thieves. The walls hung emptily, studies, cabinets, secrets chests were all left barren. If it weren't for Gringotts I'd be hovelling the streets for food. I'd rather Voldemort have killed me than that.

What a stupid thing to say, my magical provider had been steering me away from thoughts like that. Also refraining from words such as superior, better, muggle, and pure-blood. I understood some of those, knew it wasn't good for public image in this new front of the wizarding world, but honestly, muggle?

It was about six weeks ago, I had arrived in Diagon Alley, the remnants of it anyways. A woman gathered her children opposite of the sidewalk from me, store owners that had benefited from my family's dealings quickly closed their doors as I drew near - each afraid to be associated with me now. Others stood up from their chairs to stare me down, going so far as to step out from the Leaky Cauldron. Self-made heroes who weren't even at the battle of Hogwarts. I wouldn't have been there if it weren't one of the requirements for my release, to seek professional help. I tapped the right brick and walked into muggle London. About three blocks away I arrived at a small white office, the black letterhead above told me that this was the right place.

Mayer Puntiker was his name, a pure-blood who had steeped deeply into muggle teachings. They'd tell him as the father of Mental Magic in history, but for now, he was just some hornbill who I had to report to once a week.

"...then this muggle turned on this glass screen with a rectangular looking wand."

"Draco," he interrupted. "What did we say last week about not using words that are offensive?"

I gave him an incredulous look, "What are you suppose to call people that can't do magic then?"

"People, Draco. Just people."

I didn't know if this guy was an idiot or if I was more into pure-blood than even I realized, because this made absolutely no sense. It was moments such as that one, that was cause for my good mood today. Instead of having to go through Diagon Alley, only to plop down on some dingerbat's couch, I would be expecting a new order from the council at noon. I had no idea what the next part of my habilitation was going to include, but anything was better than turning up for another session.

After I had showered and toweled off. I stood naked in front of the mirror for a moment. The scars Voldemort had inflicted on my body as reminders of what would happen if I failed to get the Death Eaters inside Hogwarts lined my flesh in no particular pattern. The light marks of Buckbeak on my arm were barely visible, but the zookies, a form of sprite, under a hippogriff's claws still stung my bones from time to time. A dozen other scars that didn't get healed properly when my parents and I fled Hogwarts, too many to count. So I didn't. I slipped on my robes, the green silk lining felt comforting. I had been wearing muggle clothing most of the time now since I was forced to get my own groceries, and a plethora of other menial labor. Not being able to apparate was such a pain. I mean, I even had to go get a license. Could you imagine the indignity of me standing in a line - waiting, in jeans and a polo, right next to muggles?

"Next!"

"I'm here to apply for a muggle certification."

"What?" asked the dubious brunette behind the counter. If only she knew that I had the power to bend her small brain to my whim if I had a wand, she'd be speaking to me in a befitting tone. I kept my face even but discreetly gripped the counter with more force than observable, all to keep calm in order to answer her question.

"I want to operate a muggle contraption. The kind with four rubber wheels."

"Sir, this is the department of transportation," she said as if that was the last word of the matter on this planet. She was about to be in the department of magical maladies if she. Breathe, breathe. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. I have no idea why I chose that as my safe word. Actually, the more that I think about it, the more that I realized that it has never worked. Not once. In fact, if anything, it has made it worse each time. Not that I hated Harry, but just the idea of it all. The reminding of this storm that was manifesting itself inside of me, and me - wanting to express it for the world to witness.

"Where would I go?" I asked in my most neutral tone.

"You're looking for the desk of the DVLA," she answered.

"And where is that?"

She pointed at the counter directly behind her. The line was surprisingly empty, but still a ticket wheel sat on the counter. The young woman nodded her head, "Take a number and someone will be right with you."

I walked over to the counter top and pulled out a ticket, number 86 it read. I looked at the monitor hanging above the counter, in red pixels it displayed the number 85. I looked around but no one else seemed to be waiting on this side. I looked at the woman, whose back was now turned to me, servicing some muggle. I sat down in a hard plastic chair and waited. No one was coming, the long line on the other side, the one I had just been in, was starting to become shorter and shorter. Finally when the last muggle was helped, the young woman stood up. She adjusted her uniform before turning around. She sat in the seat behind the counter in front of me, turned on a computer screen, shuffled some papers, and then flicked a button. The monitor above changed from 85 to 86, and the loud boom of a woman's voice called out, "Number 86 please. Number 86."

I'd never understand the chaos of muggles. I don't think that I ever would, no matter how much time I spent in their world. And I was hoping that today's owl would make it so that I wouldn't have to learn much more. I made my way down the stairs, through the large living room, and out onto the balcony of the 3rd floor. A single shot of black fell from the sky, my night owl Sir Kadon had folded his wings and plummeted towards land. He looked like a meteor as he broke through cloud after cloud. I could make out the red ribbon on his leg fluttering behind him like a fiery trail. And right before he smashed into the ground, he opened his deep wings and glided majestically towards my arm. He always did like to show off.

I ran my fingers through the feathers on his head, feeding him a singular snidget as a prize for arriving early. The traces of blood on his beak told me he had to peck a few officials in order to do so, but the rare delicacy was worth it, and he knew it. I loosened the parchment from his leg, and unrolled it hurriedly.

"Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,

By order of the Ministry and the Magical Council, you are to arrive at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by sunset on July 17th, 1998 for further instructions on your rehabilitation as required of your parole. You are also, still, ordered to report to the offices of Third Merlin Dr. Mayer Puntiker once a month. Failure to do either requirements shall result in your immediate arrest and imprisonment in Azkaban without trial. Thank you and have a day."

Sincerly,  
Percival Ignatius Weasley  
Head of the Department of  
Magical Law Enforcement"

Hogwarts? I had never expected to be going back. What did it want from me? No doubt my family's money to rebuild. I felt some responsibility for what had happened, not that Voldemort wouldn't have found another way. But if giving a few galleons to the right people, could perhaps speed up my banishment, then it would be a worthwhile experience all on its own. Most importantly, it was finally time for me to return into the folds of the magical world. And what better place to make my comeback, than the place where it all started. I almost didn't notice the order to show up to that lunatic's office once a month. Almost.


	2. Chapter 2: Wendalin Holmes

Chapter 2: Wendalin Holmes

These jeans were riding up my leg, I had no idea why they were so skinny. That blasted muggle at the store had assured me that this was the most popular wear. I couldn't even begin to imagine the need for all this stupid plaid. I strode through Kings Cross, my hands in my pocket, and slipped right through into 9 and 3/4. I could almost feel the magic filling the pores of my skin. I almost wished I could have cherished this moment, one of the few good ones in these past years, but some bloody woman stood in my way.

"Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

"You're a muggle," I said. I tried not to show her my surprise. I've heard of some muggles who knew about the wizarding world. But I had never met one, much less expecting one here.

She looked taken aback by my comment but quickly regained her composure, "Mr. Malfoy, my name is Wendalin Holmes, the ministry has sent me here to guide you towards Hogwarts."

The indignity! I couldn't. Those pompous buffoons at the ministry. A muggle to guide me to Hogwarts? I knew about. I'm a pure-blood. Since I could remember every child in our. Hogwarts? Hogwarts? How could she even. This must be that Weasley's idea of a stupid joke! Once I gained back my family's prestige, that mangy, straight lipped ginger would. Oh yah, he would. I mean, would he, oh he would, would real good.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"What makes you think that you can speak to me, muggle?"

She flicked her wrist without so much as a word, and my arms were bound together behind me. Great. A mudblood who found some magic along the way. I gave her another glance over, and it still wasn't a face I recognized, but she must have been close to my age.

"Now I can float you onto the train, or you could walk aboard. Either way, it's fine with me."

I gave her the slightest nod. She wasn't worth an ounce of magic. Father always said not to kill the messenger. And I had more important battles to fight.

"Good. And now that we understand one another. We shall board the train, there will be no fuss. I will choose where to sit. And then, if you're well behaved. I'll tell you what is going to happen."

She jabbed the end of her wand in my back. I could have snapped it in half. It was within reach, and I doubt she'd be able to react quickly enough. She seemed still green around the edges. But where would that have gotten me? And a part of me, also couldn't do it. Not to a wand. Not now. Losing a wand is like losing an arm or a leg. There's just a part of you missing. So I boarded the train and sat where she told me, then watched her open up a briefcase. She pulled out three rolled up parchments. And I think what looked to be a flat sheet of paper with lines. A pen. An eraser. Whiteout. Why was she such a muggle?

"I don't remember seeing you before," I said. "Not many faces I don't know. My family is well connected." It's the speech I had prepared since childhood. Back then, I thought I'd do it every year to scare the First Years on the Hogwarts Express. I had simpler goals then.

"Your family was, was, well connected."

"So you did know who I am?"

"Just from your file, but of you, or your family? No. Not a clue."

I leaned closer towards her, "So who was it then? Your mother or your father?"

"What?"

"Who was magical? I suppose it was your father? Magic changes a witch. But every once in awhile, you'll hear about a wizard who wants to play god in your little world. No. Don't tell me. You aren't. I mean." I snickered, "Could it be that neither of your parents were magical? I once knew someone like that, and she..." I don't know what made me corner myself. The words were right on my tongue but I couldn't say them. Even though my present company would have no idea what I was talking about.

"She what?" Wendalin asked.

"Nothing." I leaned back in my seat and gave her a look of indifference. Propping my legs on her suitcase on the floor, "Well? Are you going to get on with it?"

She pushed my feet off her suitcase, "It's going to be a long train ride..."

"Spit it out woman. I don't have all day to play your silly little games."

She looked at me for just a moment, a hint of something in her eyes reminded me of myself. Her fingers must be itching to wrap themselves around her wand. Or from what I learned of muggle-borns, they preferred punching. But I was ready, and she would be good practice. I watched her shoulders. But they never moved. Not that they'd ever land a blow anyways.

"You are to report to the Headmaster of Hogwarts upon our arrival. There she will inform you about your task. If you do not complete your tasks then you shall, without trial, be carted off to Azkaban until further notice."

I nodded and waited for her to continue. But when she didn't, I looked at her incredulously, "Well? What's the rest of it?"

"I told you it was going to be a long train ride."

"So they got a muggle to babysit me. What did they think I was going to do? Blow up the train?"

"Did you have plans to blow up this train Mr. Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Or any train?" she asked me with seriousness.

Here I was, being treated like some riff raff. But for the fifth time in my life I was completely unable to think of anything clever to say. It was to expected after all, being that the Malfoy's were always handled with care, even if this was of a different kind. I attributed it to our wealth and power. And as father always said, "Fear is power, and if the seeds are strong, if you can sow them in early, Doubt will make Fear, king."

I loosely fingered the rings on my hand, "Did you not use your wand to check me for any magical items I may have snuck aboard? It's what any ministry dog would do first. But I suppose, even if you did, you'd have missed it. I did once sneak hundreds of men into the world's most magically fortified castle."

She paused for a moment, a hint of uncertainty. But it came as quickly as it went. Hmph, I suppose there was some class among muggles. I looked her over again. She was nicely kept, proper, but not with forced rigidity. It was decades of blood that made her different.

"I don't believe you'd jeopardize your return to Hogwarts," she concluded.

And that was when it happened. It was almost too fast for me to realize what I saw from the corner of my eyes. A plume of blazing smoke trailing alongside the train. I saw a flash of blue fill the window. It bounced off the magical barrier. An onslaught of red, blue, and greens would soon follow - each shaking the window. A hatch in the walkway must have opened, because it was then that I heard boots hitting the ground. There was also someone on the train. I could hear the conductor pulling the cord as it whistled loudly ahead. Another blast of green filled the window, a crack appeared in the center. I looked at the muggle, her face was concentrated beyond our door. Her wand hand ready to shoot the first thing that came through it. The cloud of smoke outside the train stopped shooting spells, it came closer to inspect the crack, and that was when I saw it. The white bones of the murdered, its jaw torn from the hinges before death, the last test before becoming a full fledged Death Eater. The mask, it stared eerily into our cabin before backing away. I gripped at my wand emptily, and a feeling of dread overtook me. I was helpless here. In that moment, the door to our compartment burst open, and a large burly man filled the hole left behind. I saw Wendalin shoot a spell at the man's chest, they bounced off the garb around his neck. But there was no time for me to worry about them, the Death Eater outside the train shot two more red orbs at the window. The first one shattered the glass, sending shards everywhere. The second followed, it was aimed right at Wendalin. In a moment before I could think, I curled my fist and gave it a strong left hand. The blow sent the spell into the next compartment and launched me harshly into the air. My head hit the roof and that was the last thing I remembered before everything went dark.

I came to upon the cold ground. I don't know how much time had passed but the sun had set and only a small fire from a portion of the upturned train shed light on the carnage. The train itself must have continued on towards Hogwarts, leaving behind the wreckage as it sped away. I could see where spells scorched the wallpaper. A duel must have ensued after I blacked out. I fumbled around in the dark to feel for my legs. One was broken, but the rest of me seemed fine besides some burns and cuts. I propped a sore shoulder against a piece of wreckage. A shadowy figure rose from the rubble, pushing aside an old bench. I could see the wand's shadow flickering on the ground from the ebbing flame. I looked at my hand, two of the three family rings had cracked, undoubtedly from ricocheting the spell. It would have be enough to kill her, to kill me, if not for the rings. It was one of the few possessions of Father's that I managed to hold onto. Forged by goblins and passed down through our lineage for generations. Gone, to save a mudblood. I leaned back, and groaned. Just kill me now.

"Malfoy?" a voice called out. "Malfoy!"

It was Wendalin. "I'm right here!" I shouted. I breathed in a sigh of relief. "I'm right here." I wasn't yet ready to go.

She came towards me, clutching her arm. Blood oozed from a gash above her eye, "Are you alright?"

"It's just my leg. Once you heal it, I'll be fine."

Wendalin gave me a look, and that's when I knew, "You don't know how do you? And I don't suppose you're going to give me your wand so I can do it. Great. Just great. Even after I saved your life."

"Why'd you do it," she blurted.

Her first real loss of composure. I turned away, annoyed at the way she looked at me, "You were the only one with a wand. If I didn't save you, I'd have been as good as dead."

She stared at the ground, "Of course."

I tried sitting up, but the pain in my leg was too much.

"Let me help you," she began.

I waved my arm, "I got it." I managed to pull myself proper against a piece of scrap metal that had embedded itself into the hillside. "What kind of witch are you anyway? You don't seem to know anything. I mean, didn't you learn anything at Hogwarts?"

"I never went," she replied quietly.

"What do you mean you never went? Of course you went. You know how to do magic don't you?"

She sat down next to me, "I developed late."

"What does that even mean?"

"You really don't know, do you Mr. Magic-born."

"Know what?" I asked. My curiosity overcame my irritation.

"Not everyone develops magic before becoming a First Year. Some people don't learn that they are magical at all until much later. I'm one of those people. I didn't learn that I could do magic until two years ago. And they don't just stick 16 year olds into Hogwarts and expect them to catch up. Instead we get trained by the Ministry. Learning the ins and outs of each department, figuring out what kind of magic we like, becoming slowly integrated into the magical world."

"I always wondered what they did with squibs."

"I'm not a squib!"

"I meant squibs that develop some magic later. You always hear about a few pure-blood family's here and there whose son or daughter suddenly disappears only to emerge again a few years later. But no one's ever taken a class with them, or remembered them. Not that anyone really cares."

"How can you be like this? Still? After everything you've been through?" she asked. There was a rise in her step and I wasn't in the mood to be some stone, especially not to some mudblood.

"You think you know me? Me? What I've been through?" I don't know when I stood but now I was staring down at her. Even with my wounded leg she was still a head shorter than I was. "You think because you've read some files, heard some rumors. You think you know what he was like? He was a monster. And what he did to my family? I will never forgive. But don't think for a second that I wouldn't have done the same with all his power. Don't think that I wouldn't wipe your kind off the face of this planet. You think you know me? You don't know anything, witch."

"You're right. I don't know you. And I was naive in thinking I knew the boy that refused to kill Albus Dumbledore to save himself. The one who risked his own skin for a friend in the room of requirements. Or the son who risked everything to protect his parents. You're not him. Who could have ever mistaken him for Draco Malfoy." She stood back as if to hide her face in the shadow, raising her good hand to the sky, and sending out a yellow spark into the clouds. The burst of magic rose into the air before splintering into the night.

"You don't know me," I muttered under my breath. "None of you do."


	3. Chapter 3: Into the Jungle

Chapter 3: Into the Jungle

"Hey watch your step miss," Dean Thomas said as he helped Wendalin off a thestral. "Don't want you to hurt yourself more, for, Madame Pomfrey can get a look at you."

"We'll be fine," I said. But they ignored me. The patch job they did seemed sufficient enough for me to stand. Not bad, but I suppose when you're weak, you need to know a good healing spell or two.

"Why don't you wipe the drool off your mouth Dean?" said some Hufflepuff that I didn't recognize.

"Why don't you mind your own business and get these thestrals back into their pens?" he joked.

I couldn't stand their banter anymore, and honestly, I didn't give two owls worth a damn about them. I was finally here. I placed a hand on the large gate, it was one of the few things that was left untouched. I suppose, even those monsters wouldn't have wanted to disrupt this piece, this one place that we all shared.

The walk up to the castle was a long one, but I enjoyed the cool air on my skin. I heard small magical creatures lurking somewhere beyond the growth, and remembered the first time I walked through here. Some other First Years at the time skittered around at every noise. I remembered that I pretended to not be afraid, even going as far as to tell anyone within earshot, "Don't get left behind, they'll snatch you up! Then, no one will ever be able to find you." But that Granger had to say something, "Those are Fitzels, they have big eyes to see in the darkness, but have no teeth." She could never just shut her mouth.

When we arrived at the castle I didn't know what to expect. That everything would be back to normal? That somehow it would all be fixed? What I saw was rubble, hard blood that had eaten itself into the stone walls. It looked as if someone had set off a bomb, and no one had cleaned it up yet. What were they doing? A voice in my head told me, "This is all your fault, Draco." But I shook it away. Voldemort would have found another way.

We passed by the Great Hall, and it had been properly restored. The further we went in, the more promising it became, it seemed as if they had been working from the inside out, although, there were still many scars from the battle a year ago.

The gargoyle statue of the Headmaster's Office swung open. Dean bowed lowly to Wendalin, "This is where I leave you miss, but if you need any help with this criminal, just say the word."

He passed me by, his eyes bore into mine. They were cold to the bone.

I chose to ignore him and made my way through the gargoyle.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said. She looked as ancient as always, stern around every line, with a strictness that would have made a beast from the Forbidden Forest sit on its hindquarters, if not out of respect, than just out of sheer confusion.

"What is it that you want?" I asked.

"Tone, Mr. Malfoy," she began. "Sit." She looked at Wendalin, "Ah, Ms. Holmes. Would you also like to take a seat?"

"Thank you Headmistress."

"Now that you're gathered here, we can begin the task at hand. The ministry has entrusted me with your punishment, seeing as you are still a student of Hogwarts..."  
A loophole that I had found in my stint as a prisoner of my own home. I had technically not graduated from Hogwarts, nor had I been over the age of consent when Voldemort had taken me hostage.  
"...And what better way to repent than to help rebuild what you've so carelessly destroyed."

I began pulling out a piece of parchment, I was expecting this, "How much coin is it going to take? Would the school also like a new library? And if I were to add a little extra, for the Slytherin House of course, I'm sure you wouldn't..."

McGonagall slapped a hand on the heavyset table, magic crackled under her palm, there was a fury inside of her eyes that I had not seen in awhile. "Mr. Malfoy, I had agreed to the Ministry's request, on the hope that you had learned something from your...ordeal. And on the suggestion of individuals who are trying to aide you in seeing the atrocities you helped commit. So, in accordance, I have gathered a punishment fitting of your rehabilitation into the civil wizard I know that is inside of you." She leaned forward in her chair, "And I guarantee you, that will not be easy."

Wendalin had stiffened up next to me, I also noticed my hand around the parchment had creased it. It was one thing to treat mudbloods and halfwits like the Weasley's as inferior, but McGonagall was a powerful spell caster, strong as any of the greatest in her time. Even if she was a Gryffindor, this witch deserved my respect. But mostly, the First Year in me was still afraid of her.

"What is it that you need me to do, Professor?" I asked in a tone I had usually reserved for Snape.

"You will help rebuild Hogwarts. And you will do so by finding new teachers for our students. Usually this task is rendered to the current Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts, which means it is of the upmost importance, but as you can see - I have plenty to do here." She began writing on a piece of parchment, "There are quite a few empty seats on our board, and they need to be filled in order for our students to receive a proper education. You need to locate and convince the ones I have chosen to take their positions at Hogwarts. Failure to fill all five empty seats will result in your immediate imprisonment in Azkaban without trial - or so stated by the Ministry. Now, seeing as how Professor Sprout has made her recommendation first, you will be looking to convince this individual to join our ranks."

She hands me the rolled up parchment, I took a glance at the name and groaned. Neville Longbottom. Just send me to Azkaban now I wanted to tell her, but there was more I needed to do on the outside, "Where can I find him?"

"South America, in the Amazon jungle."

McGonagall's words were a blur afterwards, and before I knew it she had thrown me out of her office and into the cold hallway. Wendalin tugged at my numb arm, "Come on, we have to find Mr. Price."

"Who?" I asked.

"The Ministry official who is going to meet us at the gates. I'm just happy they decided to let you use a portkey. I was getting rather tired of traveling without magic."

"But we just got here..." I trailed off as we passed an upturned courtyard. I stopped in my tracks. There he was, standing amidst the rubble. Black hair, green eyes, and the scar that made him famous. We looked at each other, even if for a moment, not a nod, or a blink was passed between us.

"Is that? Oh my god, it is," Wendalin began, but it was then that I stormed off. "Hey, wait, I wanted to talk to him. Mr. Malfoy, where are you? Draco! Draco!" she called after me. "Wait!" She had ran. "What do you think you're doing? You are my ward and I am in charge of you, do not leave without my permission ever again, do you hear me?" she threatened.

"Let's go," I told her. "The ministry official must be tired of waiting."

We made our way to the edge of Hogwarts in silence. I could feel that she was still fuming inside, wanting to give me a good talking. Not that I cared. What I did care about was the old creaky fellow who stood just beyond the gates. He stood alone, with his hood over his face on a cool night. We had just begun down a patch of steep hill before the bottom, when I placed an arm out to stop Wendalin. "Use your wand to check him."

"What?" she asked.

"Something isn't right." Why would a ministry official be standing outside of the gate, and not waiting inside of the magical barrier where it was safe? "He's not allowed to enter," I realized aloud.

"What?" she asked again.

"Wendy, use the revealing spell."

"He's a ministry official," she complained.

"So what? The spell would do him no harm, and if he has nothing to hide than it's just an extra precaution for us."

"Oh all right." She took out her wand, "Sorry Mr. Price." A float of white flood drew over Mr. Price like fog. Homenum Revelio, a spell that detects invisible things. I wished I had knew about this spell when Potter used to sneak around in his invisibility cloak. Although, I'm not sure it would have worked.

The spell spread over Mr. Price, and as it flowed beyond him it revealed the thirty Death Eaters who stood by his side. It was eerie seeing them standing before me, their cloaks as black as night, their masks gleaming in light of the spell. I knew that they wouldn't try and attack the gate, so I stepped forward to bluff them into thinking that I wasn't afraid.

Wendalin suddenly shot a flash of pink from her wand, the figure posing as Mr. Price brushed it away lazily with a flick of his non-wand hand. The figure posing as Mr. Price looked at me, "We're waiting, Draco." And then one by one the group apparated away with a pop.

We stood still for a moment. Wendalin looked around, her wand still out. Another pop near the gates had us both jumping out of our skins, but I pretended not to be affected. A seemingly simple man was at the gate, in his hand was a crummy old bowl, and he was whistling a happy tune. Wendalin had immediately pointed her wand at him so when he turned around he was startled.

"Please don't hurt me!" he pleaded. His hands covering his face, his wand still in his robes. This man was absolutely useless.

"It's not him," I told her.

"How do you know?"

"This is the problem with you muggles, you never know anything. If he were in fact an enemy, or if he was trying to enter the grounds without permission, he wouldn't be able to, not without extreme force. Even Voldemort needed the help of all his Deather Eaters to break down the magical barrier here. It was put in place by the four greatest wizard and witches of all time, after all." I grabbed Wendy's hand, then snatched the old bowl from the cowering wizard, "Good bye ministry dog," I belted. But after a second of nothing, I looked at him stupidly. "Why isn't it working?"

"T-that's not the portkey," Mr. Price said.

"Well, where is it?" I demanded.

He pulled out a small circular object, it was heavily embedded with markings, "It was specially made for your tasks. The ministry controls its next location, and it will activate once it has determined that you've completed your current mission. If you need to use the portkey for any other reason, send an owl and someone may approve your destination."

"Give it here." The instant my hands touched it, I felt it pull me inward. I imagine that is how an ant feels as it is being flushed down a drain.

When I had opened my eyes, we were already in the dense Amazonian jungle. I could feel the sweat literally creeping under my nails, and places where I hadn't known I could sweat, sweated as well. The humidity alone seemed exhausting.

Wendalin was bent over on the ground, "I think I'm going to be sick," she managed before barfing.

"Muggles," I said while shaking my head. I pocketed the small circular object, and began to look around. "What are you doing here Longbottom," and for once I actually wanted to know.


	4. Chapter 4: Longbottom Pt1

Chapter 4: Longbottom Pt 1

We had been walking in the rainforest for a day and a half before we came to a small village on the outskirts of the thicket. Here the people were simple, there was no electricity or running water, but there was one shaman who lived in a hut. We had asked around, finding difficulty in our language barrier, for the location of this shaman's hut. When we did find a woman who could help answer our questions, she also mentioned another traveler like us, light skinned and curious who came through about ten suns ago, also asking the whereabouts of the shaman. It began to grow promising, we were on Longbottom's trail, and I wasn't about to lose it now.

"I don't care. I need a bath. We are going to stop by the gorge and you'll be my look out."

"Listen woman, Longbottom is several days ahead of us, and he has a wand..."

"I have a wand, and I'm going to use it on you if there's another word about leaving before I've had a proper washing."

I threw my hands up in the air, "Are all muggles like this or just women in general?"

"Hey, are all guys such jerks or just Malfoys?"

I could have torn this blasted woman into shreds, then faked my own death, then escaped to Northern America. I'd never get used to their stupid way of talking or their common mannerisms, but if I could send an owl to a third uncle of mine to send me money from Gringotts than I coul...

"What are you scheming in your green little head?"

"What?"

"That's what you're doing isn't it? Every time you have that look in your eyes, you're plotting something."

"Are we going to the gorge or what?"

Wendalin gave me a look as if she was trying to decide what to do. I suppose if I had a scheming face, this would be hers. Her eyebrows creased just along the edges, and her irises narrowed intently at the object of her annoyance. She had only been done lecturing me about not stopping by Madam Pomfrey's for some magical ointments for our journey. I had just finished telling her that if she was a real witch we wouldn't be having this problem. She had turned my hair green in response.

The gorge was about 7 kilometers away. I climbed the last rock and faced the raised bowl of water that seemed to be a pore of the earth. Inside was the bluest water I had ever seen. In a sense it looked magical.

"These canals run deep below the ground for miles and miles, the villagers around these parts believe that it is the beating heart of the Earth God. It is drinking water, cooking water, and bathing water for people from miles around. They never contaminate it, instead you're suppose to draw water out," Wendalin pulled out her wand and twirled a line of water from the gorge. She suspended it in the air like a bowl, the crisp blue of the liquid was enchanting. "There's still so much we don't know," she began. "I've once read a report on this water, and the last time person from the magic community who studied it was Ivial Perckinal, but that was about two hundred years ago. And he hadn't even bothered to talk to the local shaman, who had been using ingredients from this region for thousands of years. It could be filled with all kinds of magical properties..."

"You sound like this girl I know," I said while dipping a green leaf into the gorge. I pulled from it and drank a long deep gulp. It was indeed refreshing, but magical? There was more magic in chocolate covered frogs than in this thing. "...she also never shut up."

"What is it with you and learning? Or is it all magic-born who are so completely against knowing more magic than they should? I mean, when I first learned about magic, there wasn't a book you could throw at me that I wouldn't read. But the lot of you, who've grown up with it all along, you seem so indifferent to it."

I folded the leaf and put it into my pocket, "Does a monkey wonder why a muggle doesn't just eat, and eat all the time, after finding a way to grow food instead of needing to hunt or scavenge? It's the same answer, there's more to life than one thing. Even if that thing is everything, like magic."

"What's your thing that more interesting than magic?"

"Important, not interesting."

She gave me a long stare, but I wasn't about to be rifled by some mudblood, "Are you going to just keep talking or take a bath?" I began walking away, "And don't worry about me looking or anything."

"Oh I won't," she replied. "Incarcerous!"

I fell like a sack of potatoes onto the ground, if it weren't for the small mobility in my feet I'd have rolled right off the edge," What are you...!"

"Now stay put, and if you're behaved, then I might change your hair color back."

If I could ball my fists near my head I would, the infuriating things this woman was putting me through. When I got my wand back, she'd be the first to feel my wrath. Oh, I swear it.

I rolled onto my back and a patch of green leaf shielded the sun from my eyes. I could see the tufts of green from my head, and feel the bits of grainy earth beneath my fingers. The humidity was still light this time of day, and it was pleasant here. I could hear the sounds of the tropical rainforest beyond the edge, live with sounds of creatures in the wild. In my newfound captivity, I couldn't help but wonder what Longbottom was doing here. I never knew much about the little git, except that he was always behind in classes, useless, and everything but the adventure type. I'd heard stories about his battle at the ministry, and at Hogwarts, but unless I saw it with my own eyes - he'd always be that idiot with the frog. What could be in this forest that made him trek into it, if no one else had for over two hundred years? I tilted my head a bit and looked into the jungle, "What secrets are you hiding?"

When Wendalin had finished bathing, she untied me and changed my hair back to normal, "It looked better the other way," she replied as if serious.

I chose to ignore her, "Come on, we still have a few hours of walking just to reach the shaman's hut."

It was tough travel through the gnarled roots of the rainforest, a few villagers passed by here and there, we saw a hut once that we thought was the place. But a screaming woman who threw pots and pans at us told us that it was not the shaman's hut.

When we did finally reach an opening with a single trail, the hut stood on stilts to keep itself away from the slithering, slimey, and legged creatures that owned the rainforest. It had a thatched roof and just the lightest trail of yellow smoke. I could smell a potion brewing in the air, "This is the place."

Wendalin nodded, even she knew when magic was abound. She walked several feet in front of me, placing an arm for me to stay back. I rolled my eyes but she didn't see. "Hello? Is anyone there? My name is Wendalin Holmes, I am on official Ministry business!" she shouted at the closed door.

The yellow smoke above the hut ceased, I heard a shuffling inside and once again gripped emptily at my wand hand. The door swung open and I was actually thankful that Wendalin was standing in front of me. A man stepped out of the hut, he was about 180 centimeters tall, well built, and a rugged beard had begun setting on his face, "Longbottom?" I questioned.

The instant he heard my voice his expression became grim, he took two steps and made it off the raised platform and before I knew it his hands were around my collar and my feet were having trouble touching the ground.

"Malfoy," he breathed down my neck.

"Close your mouth, it reeks," I muttered.

"You've got some nerve coming here," Neville said.

"Trust me, this isn't exactly the type of place I'd want to be seen at."

"Privileged little Malfoy, afraid to break a pinky nail?"

"Found a pair lately, have you? Now you've forgotten what it was like before you found it? Remember who you're talking to," I growled angrily.

"I know exactly who I'm talking to, a traitor. Ain't that right? Betrayed the wizarding world, betrayed your dark lord, it's like you just can't pick a side can you yeh stinking coward."

"Boys!" Wendalin shouted. "Mr. Longbottom, please set him down."

"Who're you?" Neville asked, rounding on Wendalin. "I thought I heard you say you were from the Ministry? What're you doing with this coward?"

"He's under my protection, to complete his tasks as per punishment of his wrongdoings during the Second Wizarding War," she said all in one breath.

Neville threw his head back and laughed, it was a bit maniacal. I suppose the humidity and seclusion had finally gone to his head.

"That's rich, truly rich. I'm sorry," he gasped between breaths. "Who in their right mind thought this thing was able to change? They should have just thrown him into Azkaban and be done with it."

Neville gave me another look, before settling against the trunk of a tree, "All right. I'll bite. What are you doing here Malfoy?"

I pulled out a rolled parchment from my pocket and tossed it at him, "McGonagall wants you to fill in a position at Hogwarts." I looked to Wendalin, "Come on, we're done here." I pulled out the circular portkey but nothing happened. "Why isn't this thing working..."

"I'm not going," Neville said.

"That's not my problem," I replied. I turned the portkey around several times, "Why isn't it..."

"On the contrary Mr. Malfoy, it is your problem," Wendalin piped up. "According to the Ministry and Professor McGonagall, your task is to not just bring the requests to these individuals, but also to convince them to take their posts at Hogwarts for the upcoming year."

Neville smiled something vicious, "And what happens if he fails?"

"If he fails to bring all five of the required seat..."

"Immediate imprisonment to Azkaban. I know, I know." I looked at Neville, "What's it going to take Longbottom? How many galleons?"

"I don't need your money you greasy blonde monkey."

I curled my fist, "Say that again you muggle-lover."

"Want a beating do you?" Neville said as he stood up straight. "I don't even need a wand to cream your little face in, and out here? No one will find your body."

Wendalin shot a small bubble between us, it popped open in small sparks. Neither of us blinked as we stared each other down, but neither did we advance any further.

"Mr. Longbottom," Wendalin began.

"You can call me Neville," he replied coolly, his eyes never leaving mine, his hands still balled into a fist.

"Neville," she started again, "Professor Sprout had personally recommended you for the position as the Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She's looking to take some time off from teaching, not sure how long her leave of absence will be, but you can imagine how it would be good for her after everything that has happened."

Neville glanced at her, "There are still things that I need to do here."

"What exactly are you doing out here Longbottom?" I asked.

"That's none of your business," he retorted.

"It is if it'll get you to Hogwarts in September," I said.

Neville looked around, I could sense a bit of paranoia in his voice as he said, "I'm looking for a plant."

Wendalin and I both waited for him to continue. But when he didn't, I couldn't help but wonder if she knew how I felt now on the train. If she did, I couldn't tell.

"If we helped you find this plant would you be willing to teach at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Teach at Hogwarts? If I found this plant there would be no other place I'd rather take it to than to Hogwarts," Neville said. "There are so many resources that I could use there to study it, if only...if only," he trailed off.

"What exactly is this plant," I asked.

Neville pulled out a quill and some parchment he had tucked away somewhere, "It looks like this." He showed us a drawing of a large tree.

"Isn't that a tree?" Wendalin asked.

"No, no, trees have bark. This gigantic thing is a plant. It's just grown so thick and large that it looks like a tree," Neville explained. "According to the shaman here, it has been a secret in this forest for thousands of years. His ancestors used to know the location of this tree, but not anymore. Lost in the growth of the forest he said, for hundreds of years no man has ever laid eyes on it."

"What does this tree do? And why do you want to find it, Longbottom?" I said, trying to not act too interested.

"It's said that it can heal the mind. Imagine the possibilities, all the people it could help. Maybe I'll find 12 uses of it like dragon's blood, I'm sure grams would be even more thrilled that the Longbottom name would be inscribed into the annals of history. Even if it was in herbology," he finished sheepishly.

I looked him in the eye and said, "Such as people at St. Mungo's," but didn't say another word.

He pretended not to notice my comment. Instead he waved an arm and motioned for us to go into the hut, "Come on Wendalin, you've got to meet this guy. His magic is so different for ours, I've never seen anything like it."

Neville reached a hand down to help Wendalin up the hut, "I've never met anyone magical outside of the ones in Europe and such. And this kind of magic, it's just wow. I mean, why hadn't anyone recorded this stuff yet? They should be teaching some of the stuff I've learned from him at Hogwarts. It would bring an entirely new element of thinking and spells to so many different practices."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"Okay, if our magic is technical. Books, spells, incantations, everything in strict and direct order, than this is more free-flowing. It's as if this type of magic draws from nature, the stronger the connection to the area the stronger the magic. Hey! Nammput, I've got a friend here who I'd like you to meet."

A young child greeted us just beyond the hut of the door. He wore a single loin cloth around his waist, white paint seemed to decorate his body, and in his hand he held a large antler or what looked to be a stalk of it.

"Isn't that just wicked?" Neville asked Wendalin. "That things his wand, and man if Mr. Ollivander could see it, I bet you he'd learn a thing or two." He motioned for us to sit, "It's not polite to stand in his presence.

I wanted to ask who the squirt was, but instead I sat on a placemat on the floor. The three of us kneeled in a sitting position before him. Neville was holding onto Wendalin's hand, I looked at her face, and she didn't seem to mind.

The young child waved his antlers over the fire, it grew a dark yellow, "Namuka, namuka, ehhh." His voice ebbed in the hollow. He sounded distant yet he was not but a meter in front of me. "Chuga Chuga Chuga." He bellowed, his voice growing louder. The fire danced before us as if taking shape. Nammput reached a hand into the growing yellow fire and it curled around his fingers as if he was controlling it, but as I looked closer I realized that it was in fact rubbing against his hand. It looked to me as if the fire had come alive and was reacting to his touch. Nammput danced three steps around the flame, and it grew tall - almost touching the dry roof above our heads. I could hear the small crackle of fire burning, but unlike the baseless noise and surprise, this fire seemed to be speaking.

Nammput looked at Neville and nodded slowly, "Carcola says your gatherings are worthy child of plant. She will protect you like all sacred roots in this forest. Touch her, and she will give you her gift."

Neville looked even in the face, the young boy was gone from his eyes, I didn't even recognize him anymore. He reached a hand into the flame without fear. In he went, it seemed as if the fire was swallowing him, drawing him out from his seating position. The flames licked over his skin like water, drawing him deeper into the fire, kissing his arms and rolling over his face - into his hair, until he had passed through the fire and to Nammput on the other side completely.

"Whoa," he breathed.

Nammput pulled a log from a separate bowl in the corner, it's embers burned deep and red. I could sense that there was no magic here, not even magically lit by some house elf. Nammput motioned for Neville to touch it. He grasped the scorching red end in his palm, Wendalin gasped, and I rummaged a bit in my seat as I imagined his hand burning underneath his grasp, but instead the embers died beneath his hand.

Longbottom had become fireproof.


	5. Chapter 5: Longbottom Pt2

Chapter 5: Longbottom Pt2

Run. Run! Run!

My mind was screaming at me to run. I looked left. The trees were crashing into the forest floor. I could feel the blood pumping in my ears, threatening to burst my drums as I strained to hear danger masked by foliage of all manner. My feet had carried me to a ledge. I couldn't even see over it, but I knew that I couldn't stop. I slid low the moment before the edge began. I hugged the side as close as possible. But I must have caught an upturned root, a bit of shaky ground, or some other debris. Because suddenly, I didn't know what was happening. My limbs were a jumble, flashing before my eyes. I had to pull them closer to my body or they'd break. I strained the edges of my muscles and joints. They felt so distant, as a man made of sugar looks at his love through a waterfall. I reached out and watched my energy sap before I could do anything. I landed at the bottom in a heap. I couldn't even taste the blood in my mouth, and didn't even notice, not until I had pulled myself over and they rained unto the earth, red. I forced my body to stand, it was like a toddlers.

I looked back as I slowly hauled myself into the thicket. The steep mountain side didn't even faze them. The two black harpy eagles tore through the air after me, their giants wings knocking aside branches as the dove into anything in their way. It was like watching a swimmer from below. They'd open their wings and gain altitude, then drop as the next branch, of many branches, stood in their path. Sometimes snapping them in half. Their eyes glazed over by the dark magic imbued into their bodies. They were out for blood. My blood.

I fell, it was the only way to avoid having my head skewered by a dive aimed between my eyes. I knew the second bird would be coming, even before I hit the ground. I rolled, but the talons never came. It came to an end at Wendalin's wand. She had dispelled it. Her brown hair a mess, she was bleeding right below her skirt - along the side of her leg, and a mud film was drying on her shoulder. She dropped her hands, they had both been holding the wand. I could sense the magic had been draining out of her, she was about to collapse. If she rested for one moment, there wouldn't be a way to get her back up again. I hobbled the best I could to her side, digging my fingers into her arm as I got her to stand. I could feel her heart thumping against me, but her lungs were too tired to pump air. "Come on damnit, I'm not going to die here. Wake up you bloody witch." I heard the crashing of branches overhead. There were more! I saw the last branch snap as it came into view, it was all I could do to raise my good hand at its face, "Incendio!" The spell left my hand in a flash of fire, it burnt my palms, disintegrating the small leaf I had rolled into the shape of a wand. I didn't even notice the pain. Instead my focus followed the spell as it flew through the air and smashed into the harpy eagle. The black bird bulged around the throat, it's body swelled a moment, before exploding into a million dark pieces. I couldn't even smile. I knew that I shouldn't. Behind me, I could hear more of them shaking the leaves like lightning bolts dancing on water. When the last light blotched from the sky, I knew that they had amassed behind me. I turned just in time to see that they formed together, into the shape of a missile. As they plummeted towards us, I faced them, determined to see my end.

A column of earth erupted beneath my feet, it came between us, acting as a barrier. The body of the harpy eagles smashed into it. The sound of their bodies crumpling as they impacted the wall of earth, was a sound I wouldn't forget. Nammput had seen us at the last moment. I could still see the magic dancing beyond his wand.

From the side, I could hear Longbottom catching up. When he came to the clearing, a whip of white fire drew from his wand. It licked the trees, yet didn't set them aflame. But when it lashed against a harpy eagle, they disappear into a cloud of white smoke. He whirled the magic whip over his head, again, and again. Creating a ring above our heads. The white fire grew brighter, the flickering of its flames drumming the air. I watched as Longbottom gathered the magic above his head, it had turned into a white orb. Just as it looked as if it could be compacted no more, it exploded. We were bathed in a sudden light. When I had opened my eyes the harpy eagles had all disappeared.

"Is she alright?" Neville asked me.

I rolled Wendalin over gently, "I can't feel her breathing," I said.

Nammput came over to my side, he pressed an antler point between Wendalin's collar bone, he drew a straight line down, blood spread along the tip of an antler.

"What're you doing!" I heard myself yelling.

Neville began to force me off, "Calm down! Trust him, he's a healer."

I watched as Nammput drew a few more lines. He was carving into her body. After he had drawn some kind of inscription, he placed his palms, one on top of the other over the symbol. A burst of light peeked through the cracks and when he removed his hands - the wound was healed and I could see that Wendalin was breathing normally, as if sleeping. I fell on my ass and used my arms for support, "What the fuck was that Longbottom."

He looked into my eyes but didn't say a word. He knew what he had done. How it was all his fault. And how it almost cost us all, our lives.

We had been deep in the forest for days, searching for Longbottom's Holy Grail. The path that we had been travelling was overgrown from hundreds of years of wild nature. It was even more wild than the Forbidden Forest. There were even more magical creatures lurking in the crevices. I could sense them watching us as we made our way through this mass of living tissue.

"What's your stupid fire blessing going to do for you in this humid place, Longbottom? It's so wet I couldn't even light a match."

"I'm surprised you even know what matches are Malfoy."

Wendalin giggled.

I couldn't even stand the idea of having to hang around the two of them for a moment longer, and here, I think this girl was enjoying herself. God, what did I do to deserve this?

"Are you sure that midget even knows where we're supposed to be going? I thought you said his family had lost the whereabouts of the tree for generations."

"It's the best lead I got. If we don't find it in 3 days, we'll turn around, and I'll gladly go back to Hogwarts," Neville said before taking a long sip from a canteen.

"Don't hog all the water Longbottom."

He poured some into his hand and washed his face. This fool was intolerable. A life of easy magic had made him forget, that wizards could still die from the elements. Although, he did survive out here before we arrived. I brushed a branch away, there was nothing but pockets of forest darker than any cave, "Looks like a place where Voldemort would hide," I mumbled.

I noticed Wendalin scribbling something onto her lined paper.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

She finished writing, and put the little booklet back into her pocket, "Field review for my superiors to read later. I still have to make reports on your actions. And I imagine knowing the location of a possible hideout for you would be something they'd be very interested in - say a few years from now."

Longbottom laughed.

"I'll be sure to remember that when I decide to rule the world. Come knocking at your door first." She pretended to not hear my hollow threat. And with the way that we had been walking, I wasn't in the mood to make her believe them either.

"I wish I had some more of that magical water," Wendalin groaned. "It was soo good. And now I'm so thirsty."

"Did you want some of my water?" Neville asked.

"No, I've got water right here." She shook a heavy bottle over her head.

Longbottom suddenly stopped. I subconsciously put my hand in my pocket. The tips of my finger touching the edges of the green leaf I had used for water earlier. The idea had been in my head ever since I noticed the leaf changing after it had been dipped into the water. By themselves, neither seemed magical, but together, perhaps it could sustain at least one good spell. So I held on to it. Wendalin pushed my shoulders from behind. This woman couldn't sense danger to save her life. I didn't budge. She poked me again with her wand. I could hardly contain my annoyance.

"Move it blonde kid, you're slowing us down," she said.

"Can't you tell something isn't quite right?" I turned my gaze towards Longbottom, her eyes followed. He was standing still, staring to his left, his fingers gripping his wand.

"Neville? Is something the matter?" she yelled ahead.

I couldn't believe this witch. She was going to get us killed!

Longbottom motioned for us, in the smallest of hand gestures, slowly and easily he beckoned for us to come closer. I moved a cautious step towards the direction he was looking. If I could circle around the thing and get a good shot of it, we'd have a better chance. Before I took another step I realized that I didn't have a wand. This was just wonderful, how did the Ministry expect me to accomplish anything without a wand? I turned annoyingly to Wendalin, but before I could tell her my plan she was already nudging by me towards Longbottom, plowing right through the brush, with no discretion.

"Oh wow, it's some kind of a monkey! Or an ape," she said excitedly. "Look Draco," she pointed in a space beyond my view. "They're so awesome!"

I made my way to where they stood. There was indeed an ape of sorts hunched over a branch. It's eyes gave a deadened gaze at us. Perhaps it had never before seen humans. Longbottom made a slow motion towards it. And it began to walk away. When we didn't follow it looked back at us again.

"I think it wants us to follow," Longbottom whispered.

"I am not following two monkeys," I exclaimed.

Wendalin poked her wand into my ribs again. I rounded on her, "Will you stop bloody doing that. It is getting extremely annoying," I hissed.

"I will when you stop being a dipstick," she said.

"A what?" I asked.

"Nothing, come on, let's follow the monkey," she said.

Longbottom took this as a cue. The monkey seeing us follow began making its way deeper into the forest for what seemed to be hours.

"I can't believe we are letting a monkey be our guide for the Amazon jungle," I grumbled.

"Why not?" Wendalin said. "He's lived here his entire life. I doubt anyone in this area knows the place better than he does."

"I don't understand your reasoning. Even if he does knows this area, what makes you think he knows we're after the large plant? I mean, the bloody chimp could be taking us to the best bananas on this side of the forest for all we know. Honestly, I can't believe the incompetence of..."

"Whoa," I heard Neville breathe.

Whoa was right. I stopped dead for a moment in my tracks, it was all I could do to stop my jaw from dropping. How had this gigantic thing been here without anyone even realizing it. How could it possibly. And the magic, why didn't I feel it earlier? But now as I stood before it, there was no way I could ignore it.

A large tree loomed over us, it must have touched the clouds, but I wouldn't have known. I couldn't even see where the trunk width ended, "This is one gigantic piece of wood."

"It's a plant," Wendalin reminded me.

"Plant, tree, mother nature's green thumb. It can be called whatever it likes," I placed a hand on the bark. Even a section of the bark was like a panel, it was about the size of a small banquet hall. I had always been drawn to rare things. Since I could remember, mother had always passed powerful treasures through my fingers, and I had slowly grown accustomed to knowing their worth by weight and feel. By the time I was 8, father would show guests at the manor, my skill, after dinner. He'd lay out two fake galleons and one real one. He would then ask an important guest to place them in a random order. Then he would ask me to pick out the real one, and if I was right, I would get to keep the galleon. I had never been wrong. I could feel the magic each possessed, two of them were the same, and one was different. I had acquired a rare skill, one that my father prided in, "It's a mark of our incredible lineage. They said your grandfather had the skill as well. He could sense magic in items. He could feel for a hidden treasure if he were close enough. Smell the power, he once told me. It was a shame we hadn't named you after him, it's a good strong name."

Ever since, I'd been struggling to hear praise from father, as strongly as that time. But then, I suppose it was this skill, that Voldemort had heard of, that made him choose me. If anyone could find a way for Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts by magic, it would have been me. In all of my time, through all of my family's great influence, and all the witches and wizards I had met. It was the one thing I had never seen replicated. That, along with my acute sense and experience of magical items. It could have only been me. And how convenient for him, this child, unlike Potter, this child's parents were his willing and loyal subjects. I was served to him on a platter of my parents sins. If only I had refused. Failed. Watched my family die. Voldemort would not have found, another way. It was me. I did this. I looked up at the tree. I could feel the magic in me swirl to meet it. In a way, I was the wand, and I had carried this magic born inside of me, across oceans to be here. To let them touch. It was difficult being humble, when you've grown up your whole life thinking that you'd be great, or die trying, but here in the presence of this ancient magical being, I didn't need to lie to myself anymore. We are just human. But in the quest to be more, countless lives were destroyed, meaningless deaths over false prestige. Over names, honor, and control. Families were torn apart, magic was lost, and our world would never be the same. Just look at my own. Potters. Even Voldemorts. "I'll make it right," I promised the tree.

I looked to see Neville Longbottom crouched before it, his eyes in his arm, his body heaving and sobbing, "I found it," he managed between breaths, "I can save you guys. I found it. I found it."

I don't know what made him do it, or if he even knew what he was doing. Longbottom took out a small blade, reminded me of one we used in potions, and he dug the tip into the tree. If I could have seen it, the magic, the tree would have coiled in anger. I stuck out a useless hand to stop him but he had already carved away a chunk of it. Thick purple ooze spread from the tree, it's precious liquids were caught in a vile.

"What are you doing Longbottom," I asked quietly. My body was still tense from the change of magic in the surrounding air.

"What? Can you mind your own business for one stinking minute Malfoy?" he replied angrily.

I asked him again, "What are you doing Longbottom?"

He looked at his hands, and then at the tree. It seemed he had forgotten where he was, and what he had been doing. I was never any good at herbology, but even I understood that they were living breathing things. It was the way of muggles to believe otherwise, to not see them as life. And none more alive than this tree before us. It could have been the magic pillar of the world for all we knew, and here he was, carving into it, selfishly. I'd never truly known Longbottom, we weren't friends, but I never expected him to be so careless.

"What did I do?" he groaned to himself. He placed a hand on the trunk, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

But it was no use. From beyond the clouds I could hear them screeching. When the first one stuck its heads below the clouds. I knew that we had to run. I could sense dark magic in waves above us. I grabbed Wendalin's arm, she tried to brush me off.

"What are you doing, Draco?" she asked. The hint of annoyance in her voice didn't even bother me as panic set into my bones.

"We've got to run, now!"

Run.

And here we were now. A little worse for wear, but still in one piece. The sky had not fallen, and magic had not receded from the face of the planet. Longbottom had gained his plant, its life force. And I had learned the measure of a man in the face of his greatest treasure. It was no wonder we were such blights on this beautiful blue planet, even the good can be bad. But I had yet to see, the bad, do something good. And my delusion of helping Longbottom came to an end. After it was all over, I realized that it was for my benefit, not his. I had helped no one but myself.

"Are we done here, Longbottom?"

He gave me a solemn look, and patted his shirt pocket, "We're done here Malfoy. I'll be returning to Hogwarts "

Suddenly I felt a cold sting in my chest. I struggled for a moment. Longbottom reached out his hand. But when I looked annoyingly at him, he withdrew it. The coin inside my pocket, from the ministry, had begun to freeze. Its frosty bite etching over the coin. A part of me realized we'd be transported once it had covered the portkey. I grabbed Wendalin's hand, and gave one lasting stare at Longbottom, before being pulled away.

I came to upon tall grass. I was in a field, somewhere in Northern Ireland. I could recognize the smell of the soft sea and the old ruins. My heart beat something tranquil, as if the blood in me was happy to be on the right side of the world again. I noticed, just beyond sight was the community of Newcastle, one of the few mixed magic towns in Europe. It would be good, to be back in the wizarding world again. A nice hot bath, a few galleons to rub between my fingers, and something prepared beautifully to fill my stomach. I pulled Wendalin into my arms. She was still unconscious, but she was breathing fine. I carried her down the slope, uncertain of what we would find here, or whom.


End file.
